


and time is but a paper moon...

by Kt_fairy



Series: sailin' away [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fame, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Japan, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: The first thing they had been told on getting off the plane, after many versions of Welcome to Japan, was that there was a crowd waiting for them outside of the airport. None of them had expected a big crowd, they knew that the band was popular in Japan but they were hardly The Rolling Stones, so the noise that went up when Freddie and John were escorted to their car had been shocking for more than it's sheer volume. It sounded like a packed venue out there, and when Brian and himself were rushed to their car it felt like half of Tokyo was surging around them.





	and time is but a paper moon...

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lingering in my WIP's for months, abandoned because I hated it. I've bullied it into something that I don't hate. So, enjoy.
> 
> (As you can see, this isn't a Brighter Sun's fic)
> 
> This is set during Queen's time in Japan in 1975, I have done as much research as possible about Japan to be as accurate as possible, and I apologise for any inaccuracies. (all you need to know going in is that Queen was crazy popular in Japan, and John the most popular band member.)

 

 

####    -  _Tokyo_  

 Roger's ears were ringing from all the screaming. He shook his head to try and clear it, even stuck a finger into his ear and wiggled it around a bit, but the ringing was still there.

 

 He looked over at Brian who was already staring at him, his aristocratic face taken over by his wide, startled eyes.

 

“What the hell is…”

 

 A bang on the window made them both jump. The thumping increased until it sounded like heavy rain, the screaming barely muffled by the shell of the car.

 

 Their security guard was talking in rapid Japanese to the driver who was trying to follow the path the police had made through the mass of people, but they weren't making it easy.

 

 The first thing they had been told on getting off the plane, after many versions of Welcome to Japan, was that there was a crowd waiting for them outside of the airport. None of them had expected a big crowd, they knew that the band was popular in Japan but they were hardly The Rolling Stones, so the noise that went up when Freddie and John were escorted to their car had been shocking for more than it's sheer volume (it had even stopped Brian talking, which was frankly the most shocking). It sounded like a packed venue out there, and when Brian and himself were rushed to their car it felt like half of Tokyo was surging around them.

 

 Roger blinked as a painfully bright camera flash caught him in the face. He leant away from the windows, then forced himself to sit properly, trying to be genuine as he smiled and waved at the fans.

 

 He only realised that he had been raking his nails over the plush leather seat when Brian stilled his hand, cutting off the scraping sound that had been filling the car. “Fred is there. He'll be fine,” he said softly, giving Roger's hand a squeeze before letting it go.

 

“Yeah. Yeah I know.”

 

“Besides, look at that,” Brian sounded amused so Roger leant over the back seat to squint at what he was pointing at.

 

‘<3 _John Deacon + Queen_ ’ said the banner a group of very pleased looking girls were waving around and Roger couldn't help laughing.

 

“Oh my _God._ ”

 

“Freddie will _love_ that.”

 

“Who knew that all these people are here just for Deaky,” Roger giggled.

 

“No, no. I definitely saw my photo,” Brian assured him sagely.

 

“They probably got you two confused.”

 

“So _that's_ what happened” Brian grabbed Roger's hand again. “You mistook me for Deaky! Oh Roger, we can finally be together…”

 

 Roger laughed when he pulled his hand back. “You wish!”

 

 Brian acted distraught, then flinched away from the window when there was a loud bang. “God. Imagine what they were like with the other two.”

 

“They're annoyed we're not Deaky.”

 

“Yeah, we're just the backing band for the bass,” Brian joked.

 

The car sped up when they cleared the crowds, Roger sinking down in his seat as he watched the towering buildings of Tokyo go past.

 

“Well, that was unexpected,” Brian huffed as he fiddled with something in his bag. “I don't think Norman paid for that publicity.”

 

"Norman barely pays us!" Roger snorted, running his palms over his thighs. “Do you think it'll be like this all the time?”

 

“Honestly Roge, got no idea,” Brian said lightly. “Be a bit hectic if it is.”

 

“You can say that again...I hope we can get out to have Sushi without being mauled.”

 

 Brian pulled a face. “You really want to eat raw fish?”

 

“Smoked salmon is raw and you eat that?”

 

“Is not raw, its smoked.”

 

 Roger rolled his eyes and peered out through the windscreen. “Do you think if I say it's for John Deacon of Queen we'll get it for free?”

 

 Brian laughed. “Wouldn't hurt to try!”

 

 So many people were waiting for them outside of the hotel that they had to be driven around to the back of the building to use the staff entrance. They were lead through the kitchens and up the immaculate service stairs to the stylish, if mostly deserted, hotel bar.

 

 “Did you have to disembark in a dank little alley as well?” Freddie demanded when they stumbled through the door.

 

“Yes,” Brian said, an overwhelmed edge to his voice.

 

“Oh good!” Freddie said brightly. “Drink?”

 

“Please,” Brian breathed, hurrying over to the bar Freddie was leaning against.

 

“Where's Deaky?” Roger asked, following close behind.

 

“Our _star_ attraction -” Freddie said with a knowing smile as he poured two generous glasses of wine, “ - is getting changed for our imminent press conference. A Disneyland jumper simply wouldn't _do._ ”

 

“Our _what?”_

 

 Freddie handed the glasses over with a flourish, nodding over at one of their minders who was stood quietly on the other side of the room. “Every music magazine and news station in the _land_ wants a word with us!”

 

“Oh,” Brian sad as he gulped his wine. “Good.”

 

Roger emptied his glass and waved it at the ceiling to indicate the rest of the hotel. “So, you and Deak’s already fought over who got the best room then?”

 

“Oh well, _darling,”_ Freddie purred with a delighted, mischievous glint in his eye. “Brian's and my own _suite_ is just down the corridor form yours and John's. And yes I did fight for the best one - you can thank me later, Brian dear.”

 

“Okay. A suite. Okay,” Roger breathed, feeling totally lost. “Okay. They definitely have us confused with someone else. Right? We should tell them we're not actually _The_ Queen,” he joked, and then the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “You don't think…”

 

“Roge, dear,” Freddie soothed. “None of us would even remotely pass for Her Majesty, I think we’re safe. Ah, Deaky! There you are!”

 

 John sidestepped through the door with about five other people in tow, the bar suddenly full of chatter as translators and promoters and their manager started talking about the press conference that was apparently about to happen.

 

 Roger left that to Freddie and Brian, shuffling around the crowd until he was stood shoulder to shoulder with John.

 

“You look nice,” he said quietly, brushing their arms together.

 

 John looked down at his grey suit, smoothing his hand over the dark blue shirt that Roger had bought for him. “Do I look smart enough?” he asked so earnestly it made Roger smile.

 

“Bri doesn’t even have his shirt done up,” Roger pointed out, but John just looked at him. “I said you look nice!”

 

“I know but…” John ran his fingers around the waistband of his trousers. “You always say that.”

 

 Roger pulled a face that he hoped said ‘ _well yes, because you do_ ,’ and reached out to neaten the shoulders of John’s jacket. He could feel the tension running through John and smoothed his fingers down his arms. As soon as he touched John’s hand John flinched it away, fingers curling into loose fist that screamed _do not touch_.

 

The sudden movement made Roger jerk back, stung, and he blinked at John who was shifting uneasily.

 

“I…” John started, a pained look on his face, but that was when everyone started moving.

 

 Roger shoved down his dull pang of hurt and managed a smile at John, holding his arm out to let John file out of the bar in front of him.

 

 For the hour that he had been in Japan Roger had experienced all that was overwhelming and loud  that came with being crazy popular. It was peculiar, but nothing he couldn’t handle. John snatching his hand back had made Roger realise how invasive fame could be, especially when you were a room full of people you knew nothing about but you knew exactly who you were.

 

 Back home, or in America, they could walk down the street and be pretty much ignored. No-one cared that it was Roger Tayor and John Deacon from the band Queen who were covertly holding hands in cinema’s or bar’s, they were just some poof’s who shouted obscenities right back at you. To the Japanese they were someone, they were the cause of all this fuss after all, and neither Roger or John had any idea how discretion, or being with a man, worked in this country.

 

They were escorted into a lift, John and Brian leaning against the side wall while Roger stared at the doors, halfheartedly listening to Freddie still chattering with everyone through a translator.

 

John was right not to let Roger take his hand, yet it had been the only time John had ever shied from Rogers touch. And it hurt like fuck.

 

 

* ***** *

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Roger, who was slightly tipsy and incredibly drained, sighed as collapsed back against the door to their suite.

 

 John, who was standing in the middle of the main room, just laughed a little hysterically.

 

 The press conference had been the most alien and confusing thing that had ever happened to Roger. He doubted that any of it would have been easier to follow if the whole thing had been conducted solely in the most perfect BBC English.

 

 The presentation of their gold disks had been nice, and the reception held after that had been really lovely. It finally gave them a chance to stake stock of everything and actually _talk_ to the people who were being so kind and enthusiastic about them.

 

 Just when things were winding down and taking on some semblance of normality, Roger had walked through the door of his and John's suite to find a girl stood in the middle of the room.

 

 It turned out, once they'd gotten over their initial shock, that she was perfectly nice and harmless. She spoke a little English and was nice enough to apologise for breaking into their room while presenting John with a small gift, going willingly and without any fuss when they showed her the door.

 

“I have no idea what’s happening and I’m **so** tired,” John laughed, shrugging out of his jacket before plonking down on the arm rest of the sofa.

 

“What did she give you?” Roger asked, crossing the room to stand in front of John. He opened his hand to show the tiny white brocade bag with Japanese letters on it that the girl had said was an _omamori_ for safe travel. “What do you think it is? Should we open it?”

 

“We?” John scoffed, closing his hand. “She gave it to me.”

 

“All this fame is already going to your head,” Roger brushed John’s hair back off his face. “ _You’ve changed man!_ ”

 

 John gave him a sleepy smile, tipping his head back for Roger to bend down and kiss him gently. “It's all gone to my head and made me loopy.”

 

“Sooo,” Roger drawled, dropping his hands to John’s shoulders. “That arrival was a bit crazy…”

 

“Yeah,” John scoffed, eyes wide. “I don't - I didn't expect that. At all...Did they chase your car?”

 

“Yep. Screaming and running and banging on windows. The whole treatment.”

 

 John frowned. “It's weird,” he announced, still frowning when Roger laughed. He sighed gently and rested his hand on Roger’s hip. “I’m sorry about...I didn’t mean to pull my hand away like that.”

 

 It took a moment for Roger to realise what he meant. The earlier hurt didn’t come back, but the pleasant mood he had been coasting on dipped a little, struggling under the weight of the double edged sword that was success. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have tried to hold your hand, not with all those people there. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“I’m still sorry. I’d, you know - If I’d had any idea what we were coming in to I’d have said…”

 

“No, I know,” Roger slid a hand off John’s shoulder to trace one of the embroidered flowers on his shirt. “We have to be more careful, I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

 

“At least no-one gives a shit about us anywhere else,” John smiled, and then yawned, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand.

 

 That set Roger off yawning too, the long flight and the whirlwind of their arrival finally hitting with full force.

 

 “Bed,” John declared, nudging Roger out of the way as he bent to unzip his boots.

 

 When John stood Roger pressed himself against his front and kissed and him again, soft and slow, smiling in to it when John wrapped his arms around him. “No,” John muttered when Roger moved to kiss over his jaw, “I’ll fall asleep on my feet if we keep this up. Sleep”

 

“Should I mess up the other bedroom?” Roger asked as he let John take his hand and lead him over to the nearest room.

 

“Sod that,” John waved a dismissive hand at him. “Come to bed!”

 

 

* ***** *

 

 Roger had thought that the beautiful inlaid boxes that were slipped into their waiting hands were the very generous gifts they were being presented with. They were delicately made, and heavy, and Roger had been in the process of showing his gratitude when the lids where slipped back to reveal the vivid silk inside. He had gasped, hurrying to place the box on his knees so he could pick up the carefully folded and incredibly soft Kimono.

 

 Roger liked the feel of things. He liked the smoothness of satin and the plushness of velvet and the softness of John’s skin, so this Kimono was like a dream for him.

 

 “I'm going to put it on right now,” he told John. “Can I put it on now?” He asked their translator, Tomoko.

 

 After a quick discussion with the ladies who had presented the boxes to them, she turned to them with a smile. “They will help. Mr.Deacon, would you uh...like to?”

 

 John looked from the black silk in his box to Roger, a smile lighting up his eyes. “Why not.”

 

 

 Roger held his arms up once he was dressed, admiring the careful drape of the fabric while trying not to mess it up. He turned one way and then the other to get a good look at himself in the mirror someone had found for them, smoothing his hands over one of the beautifully rendered wings of the Craine’s decorating his Kimono.

 

“This is so beautiful,” he breathed, turning a genuine smile on Tomoko. “Thank you so much, it’s beautiful.”

 

 She looked very pleased to hear that, bowing deeply to Roger who still felt a little uneasy at being bowed _to_ , but he still gave her a jerky bow in return. 

 

 Giggling caught his attention, and he turned to see John standing with his legs bent so one of the ladies could adjust his Kimono. “You’re too tall even without your boots on,” Roger teased.

 

“I forgot my socks!” John protested, curling his bare toes as he blushed, which only caused more giggling. “Roge, you’ve got flat shoes on. Give me your socks!”

 

“No.”

 

“Rooggee!”

 

He almost gave in, but then Tomoko said through her own laughter. “They think his blushing is - is _kawaii._ Which means umm... something like cute. They think he is very handsome also.”

 

 John’s blush only darkened, flashing a shy smile around the room. “Thank you?”

 

“They also think your feet are funny.”

 

 John rolled his eyes as Roger burst out laughing.

 

“You can laugh, but what if the faux pas of my bare feet destroys our reputation,” John said as he came to stand next to Roger.

 

“At least we went out in a blaze of glory,” Roger murmured, watching John look at himself in the mirror. His Kimono was less flashy than Roger's, but then again he was a less flashy person. Roger loved that they both had Craine's on them, and wanted desperately to touch the arching waves of water than ran around the bottom of John’s Kimono. Instead he reached out to trace one of the white flowers on John’s shoulder.

 

 John was looking down at his sleeves and brought up his arm to waft the extra fabric. “Do you think this is being rude?” he asked as he swung his arm backwards and forwards.

 

“I think they’re just happy that we’re taking a genuine interest, you know?” Roger swirled his sleeve, then reached out to touch John's. “Yours is lined in red.”

 

“I know,” John waggled his eyebrows as he flicked the sleeve back to show the bright red lining.

 

“Oooh, racy.”

 

 John laughed brightly, a sparkle in his crinkling eyes. He leant in to Roger and then swayed away, nudging his nose in a token attempt to hide his smile before leaving it be.

 

 When Roger touched his hand to John’s side he found the thick silk had already been warmed by his body. He let his hand slip lower to squeeze John’s hip, then remembered everyone else in the room talking quietly amongst themselves in Japanese.

 

 Roger was aiming for a smooth ‘ _this is how mates are in England_ ’ move when he pulled his hand back. He smiled at John whose expression tightened a little, and Roger - who was never one for dramatics - thought the word might just as well up and end itself.

 

 Before either of them could say anything Freddie and Brain came clattering into the room followed by a photographer and what was fast becoming their usual entourage of people.

 

“You put yours on!” Freddie yelled. “We were saving ours for the gig!”

 

“We didn’t know,” John grinned. “We were just excited about the presents.”

 

 Freddie let the matter go like he always did with John, hurrying over to primp and adjust the fabric. “You look lovely by the way dear. Aren’t these fabulous? I might just wrap myself up in only  my Kimono for the rest of the tour. Be a right tart” he said with a conspiratorial grin at John who giggled.

 

“Wow. These _are_ nice,” Brian observed as he rubbed the collar of Roger’s Kimono between his fingers.

 

“Yeah, you know what’d be even nicer?”

 

“What?”

 

“You wearing your own one.”

 

 Discovering half of Queen wearing Japanese clothing was too good a photo opportunity to miss out on. Soon they were being patted down with powders while box lights were powered up, controlled chaos going on around them.

 

“Where are your socks, Deaks?” Brian asked as they hung around waiting to be told what to do.

 

“It’s not important.”

 

“He forgot to put them on this morning,” Roger whispered.

 

“You forgot to put socks on in _Japan,_ darling?”

 

“Well, I can’t be perfect all the time,” John muttered just as the photographer started lining them up, and Roger had to try very hard not to laugh.

 

 

* ***** *

####   - _Nagoya_

 With a grunt of displeasure Roger pulled the covers from over his head, grunting slightly louder just to make it clear that he was unhappy about being woken up.

 

 He made a half hearted attempt to listen to what Freddie and John were chattering about, pushing himself up enough to reach for his cigarettes. “Urgh,” he groaned as he threw his dead lighter to the side, coughing a few times before yelling thought the door. “Deaks? Are there any matches out there?”

 

 There was a peal of laughter from Freddie, then some more murmured conversation before the door swung open. Roger blinked into the sudden bright light, a book of matches hitting him on the chest. “Thanks love.”

 

“Do you have to smoke in bed?” John sighed, flicking the door closed behind him.

 

“I'll air the room out,” Roger muttered as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag. He smiled at John who shoved the ashtray at him before clambering onto the bed to flop out next to Roger. He stretched from his toes to his fingertips, Roger letting his eyes linger on the pale strip of John's skin that showed when his jumper rode up his stomach.

 

“How was the castle?” Roger eventually asked, stubbing out the cigarette and dumping the ashtray on the bedside table.

 

“It's not what we'd think of as a castle. It looks more like a Pagoda. And it was rebuilt in the fifties because it got firebombed in the war, I think.”

 

“That did tend to happen,” Roger murmured.

 

“It’s got all of the artwork still in it! I don’t know how they re-did all that or saved it. Freddie loved it, he really likes the Japanese style - he says its clean but elegant. I just like how they do flowers and trees,” John pointed to his camera he had left on the dresser. “I took loads of photos, some are for Freddie. So you can see it all once they get developed.”

 

“Thank you, love.”

 

“Some might of the Japanese school children who came up to us in the park. They were very curious, and _very_ bold, and, you know, wanted to be in the photo’s,” he fell quiet, rubbing the heel of his palm over his thigh. “There were a lot of them and I didn’t...they were very friendly and cheerful.”

 

 Roger watched John as he fell silent, a pensive look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Roger asked, shifting onto his side to face John.

 

“They were running around being inquisitive children, you know. I don’t think they’d met a westerner before, and there were cameras and...and I thought, you know, how this could be twisted if people found out about me.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not like you three. I’m quiet and shy and...” he twisted his fingers in the hem of his jumper. “The Japanese press has been so good and respectful and haven’t been nosey at all! If we were this successful back home or in America then the...journalists will pry and what if they work me out? You know what people are like about gay men and children...”

 

“What!”

 

“It's stupid, I know.”

 

“If anyone implies you're a nonce I'll make ‘em wish they'd never even _seen_ a typewriter before.”

 

 John almost smiled at that. “It's not just that Roge...It probably won't even happen. They're all too busy clutching pearls about Freddie and his catsuits to worry about me corrupting the youth.”

 

 The thought of John corrupting anyone was so ridiculous that Roger almost laughed. He didn’t smoke, didn’t touch drugs, didn’t lure young groupies into his hotel rooms; John could go down as the most Sunday Paper approved rock star of all time if it wasn't for the fact that men did it for him.

 

“They are pretty tight, the catsuits.”

 

 John attempted another smile. “I don't care if people know, and I think you don't either. What I don't want is people finding out and making... _this isn't dirty_. There's nothing wrong with us.”

 

 Roger had never had to struggle with all this. By the time he realised he liked men he was already in London surrounded by open minded, modern people who were open to all sorts of experiences. He was well aware of how lucky that made him, especially when John said things that sounded like the stuff that got yelled at you in derisive hate.

 

“I know,” Roger pressed his hand gently to John’s chest. “We know, and those who matter know, and...and I'll hold my head up high no matter what. Fuck everyone else, I love you.” He picked up John’s hand, stroking his fingertips over the ring Roger had given him. “I won’t throw this away for anything,” he promised, pressing a kiss to John’s palm.

 

“Me neither,” John said quietly. He squeezed Roger’s hand, then made an effort to laugh. “All this from a morning out with Freddie.”

 

“Imagine how I feel! I was asleep!”

 

 John smiled at him, as lovely as the fucking moon in a clear night sky, or something like that. “You’re so pretty,” Roger said, kissing his palm again.

 

“I know you’re naked under the blankets but…” John snorted when Roger made like he was going to flip the covers back, smacking him on the arm. “No, come on. Fred and me only came back to see if you lot wanted to come for lunch.”

 

“Food? What food? Sushi?”

 

“No. One of the main dishes around here is something like chicken wings in sauce.”

 

“Wings?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Huh...and you’re coming?”

 

“Yes.”

 

 Roger grinned. “You mean you’re going to eat something with flavour? What _would_ The North say?”

 

“You know full well I’m from the fucking Midlands,” John said, trying to tickle Roger but he grabbed his arms. They jostled for a minute, John ending up half on top of Roger. “You’re uninvited!”

 

“But I love you,” Roger cooed, wheezing when John lent his weight on his stomach.

 

“I love you too, but you’re still not coming.”

 

 Roger didn’t make the obvious joke. Instead he dragged John against him to kiss him thoroughly, one hand cupping his face while the other grabbed his thigh. “What if I don’t let you out of this bed?”

 

“Oh dear. Oh no,” John said blandy as he moved to straddle Roger’s leg. “Trapped by the drummer from Queen,” he whispered, pressing his hand against Roger’s dick. “Whatever shall I do.”

 

 

 * ***** *

   -  _ **Bullet Train to Kobe**_

 The novelty had definitely worn off all this hysteria, Roger had it up to the back teeth with it all and he had no idea how The Beatles put up with it for so long.

 

 Well, he was sure the money helped. Not that Queen were seeing much of theirs.

 

 He winced as he was jostled again, pulling his hands close to himself as their security started to actively drag people out of the way so they could shove Roger onto the train.

 

 Everything went blissfully quiet when the doors slid shut after Brian. Roger blinked at the sudden darkness from all the shuttered windows as he frantically patted himself down for his cigarettes. He barely had time to get one out before they were being hurried down the empty carriage, Tomoko telling them all sorts of things about the Bullet train that Roger would be lapping up if he wasn’t a little shaken.

 

 They stumbled through the connecting doors to the next carriage, Roger’s eyes immediately going to John who was leaning over the back of his seat talking to Roadie John.

 

 He wanted nothing more than to go and plaster himself against his back, to bury his face in John’s hair and breathe in his familiar, safe scent. Instead he sidestepped everyone and went to collapse down next to John, finally fumbling a cigarette out of the packet.

 

 He didn’t realise John had sat down until he was pulling the lighter out of Roger’s breast pocket. Roger watched him give it a shake and then cup his hand around the flame when it sparked into life, holding it carefully up to Roger’s cigarette.

 

 Roger touched his wrist to hold him steady, feeling out John’s pulse that was beating faster than usual. He sat back slowly, holding John’s gentle, wide eyed gaze as he took a deep drag, taking the cigarette from his mouth as he exhaled through his nose

 

“Are you okay?” John asked quietly.

 

 Roger nodded and took another drag. “How bad was it for you?”

 

 John shrugged. “Freddie and myself ran down the platform before they could get to us,” he explained, peering over the top of the chairs in front of them. “Brian’s lost his shoes.”

 

 Roger ducked into the isle to see a very shell shocked, very shoe-less Brian. “What happened?”

 

“They took the shoes off my feet! Just took them...I’m,” he turned his wide eyes on Freddie. “They stole my shoes!”

 

“At least you have other pair’s, dear.”

 

“Only two more! If they steal them what am I going to do? Do they even have shoes my size in Japan? Is that racist to ask that? What... _they took the shoes_ off _my feet!”_

 

“Clog’s _are_ easier to get off than literally every other shoe,” John muttered, a cheeky smile tugging at his mouth when Roger turned to tut a cloud of smoke at him.

 

“Be nice.”

 

 John shrugged, crossing his legs as he sunk into his chair. He was fiddling with that little bag the girl who broke into their room had given him, and Roger was going to ask about it when John glanced around and then pushed aside the curtain covering their window. “Oh wow.”

 

 Roger hadn’t felt the train pull out of the station, there had been no vibrations nor the jarring of wheels slipping in the tracks, and yet they were already zooming through the outskirts of the city. He leant over John to look out of the window, the buildings flashing past soon turning into beautiful lush greenery that he wished he could take a better look at.

 

“This is incredible,” John breathed. Roger looked up at him, smiling at the wonder in his eyes. “We must be going so fast!”

 

“So fast,” Roger agreed, resting his hand on John’s leg as he pressed a quick kiss to his arm. “Hundred miles per hour at least.”

 

“Is that your professional opinion?” John asked, tilting his head so his hair fell just so around his face that jet lag and late nights had done little to diminish the loveliness of.

 

“Oh yeah. I’ve driven car’s. I know all about speed,” he said, grinning around his cigarette.

 

John smiled, teeth catching on his bottom as he dropped his head back on the headrest. Roger patted John on the leg and slouched down in his seat, vaguely listening to Brian slowly start to find the whole shoe theft thing funny. Roger smiled to himself, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of this whole situation as he stubbed out his cigarette.

 

 John’s knee bumped against Roger’s and he glanced over at him, feeling his face heat at the warmth in John's smile. John pressed his knee a little harder against his leg as he tilted his head towards Roger before turning back to the window, letting his hand drop so his fingers just brushed the back of Roger's hand.

* ***** *

####    - _ **Fukuoka**_

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Roger huffed as he continued to squash rice onto his plate with the end of a chopstick.

 

 Brian stared at him, then went back to his book. “Okay then.”

 

 Roger squished another grain of rice, “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“I meant ‘okay then’.”

 

 Roger huffed, dropping the chopstick onto his plate with a clatter. “Yep.”

 

 Brian continued to ignore him, and Roger continued to ignore him reading his stupid book. “Why are you doing that here?”

 

“Reading?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I can leave if you want?”

 

“And do what?”

 

“Read somewhere else.”

 

 Roger rolled his eyes, then glared at Brian who was giving him a flat look. “What?”

 

“You could have gone with them, you know.”

 

“Didn't want to,” Roger lied, throwing his feet up on the table when Brian just _hmm_ -ed.

 

“The world won't work you out just because you went out to lunch with John and Freddie.”

 

“What the hell do you know?”

 

“I know that you're not as obvious as you think you are.”

 

“That’s a great help.”

 

“All I’m saying is that people make comments about Freddie and he’s been with Mary for years. People are not exactly perceptive.”

 

“Exactly! When was the last time either of us were seen with a bird?”

 

 Brian seemed to think for a moment. “If it bothers you that much, it’s an idea.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Fake girlfriends.”

 

“No! Fuck, _no Brian._ That’s shitty for the girl and...no! I’m not ashamed of John.”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” Brian said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

 

“Should be,” Roger huffed, getting up to stomp across the room and light a cigarette.

 

“I know you’re only doing that to piss me off.”

 

“Is it working?” Roger asked as he blew smoke at Brian.

 

“Look,” Brian slammed his book closed. “Don’t take it out on me. You chose to sit here and eat room service rather than go out. No one made you. John wasn’t worried about it, he obviously trusts you. So stop it!”

 

Roger pulled a face because he knew that was true but it didn’t solve this. Nothing would, except an obnoxious level of fame that made them untouchable. “I don’t know.”

 

“ _Roger…”_

 

_“_ We could destroy everything! Make a massive scandal! And we’d only be known as those poofs,” he took a drag on his cigarette. “They’d even start looking at your love life!”

 

“They’re welcome to. And I don’t care about being known as...that,” Brian gave Roger a careful look before venturing to make a joke. “It might even improve our record sales.”

 

“Yeah, just might!!” Roger snorted. “Look, I’m sorry about snapping at you Bri.”

 

“I have no idea what this is like for you, but I can tell it’s horrible. So if you need to yell about it sometimes, then that's fine.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Brian opened his book again. “But you're going to have to back me up in the studio in return.”

 

 Usually Roger would call Brian a shithead or rush across the room to ping his curls, but not today. Brian was a good man, and tried his best to be accepting of things that ran contrary to everything he had been brought up to believe. He struggled sometimes, he was only human, but his heart was in the right place, and he had done nothing by love them all. And right now that meant the world to Roger.

 

 Roger pinched out his cigarette and tucked it back into the carton as he went to flop down next to Brian. “That's the least I can do for my ol’mate,” Roger said with utmost sincerity as he poked Brian’s cheek.

 

 

* ***** *

####    - ** _Okayama_**

 

“It's incredible, isn't it?”

 

“What is, gorgeous?”

 

 Freddie straightened from where he was peering out at the crowds. His eyes were wide and sparkling in the gloom, his smile a flash of teeth before he swallowed it down.

 

“It's packed and we're not on for forty minutes!”

 

 Roger leant backwards to catch a blurred glimpse of the packet arena and shrugged. “Punctual lot, the Japanese.”

 

“Wha...well, yes I suppose they are. But that's not what I _mean_ Blondie!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If you're not going to pay attention to me!”

 

“No no no,” Roger protested, turning his attention away from Brian and John who were bent over the lighting desk. “I am, I am.”

 

 Freddie crossed his arms over his chest and gave Roger a pointed look. “You're eyeing him up like you don't already have _exclusive_ rights.”

 

“I'm not! I'm looking at Brian too!” Roger winced when he realised how that sounded, glaring at Freddie who raised his eyebrows at him.“Oh piss off."

 

“You're insatiable!”

 

“I am not! I'm just being nosy!”

 

“Fine then,” Freddie muttered, turning back to peer out at the crowd.

 

 John glanced back at John who was working to fix a problem with the lights, then rolled his head back with a sigh and spun to face Freddie. “What were you talking about?”

 

 Freddie reached out to grab Roger by the sleeve and dragged him closer, linking their arms together as he pointed out at the crowd. “They love _us._ They’re not here to see someone else or to try out new music or just to get out of the house for an evening. All these people _want_ to see _us.”_

 

“I know…” Roger said slowly. _Obviously_ all these people were here to see them. It was their tour, their gig. Then the size of the crowd hit him, the thrum of energy sparking through the whole arena raising the hair on the back of his neck. These people, half the world away from everything Roger had ever known, had come out in their thousands to see _them_ play. “Oh.”

 

“See.”

 

“ _Oh,”_ Roger breathed, blinking at Freddie. “Shit. _They love us.”_

 

“And we, my dear, love them,” Freddie grinned, pulling Roger into a hug when he laughed breathlessly.

 

“Why are we hugging?” Brian asked as long arms wrapped around them both, pulling them against his boney chest.

 

“Because Japan loves us, dear!”

 

“Excellent!” Brian enthused, giving them a squeeze before ruffling Roger’s hair. “John’s got the lights sorted.”

 

“Of course he has!” Freddie yelled in delight, skipping over to John to pull him into a side-on hug. “There is nothing our Deaky cannot do!”

 

“I just asked if we could change the...oh, okay,” he flushed when Freddie smacked a kiss to his cheek, eyes immediately finding Roger.

 

 Freddie had always been physically affectionate, doling out kisses to everyone who would accept them and hugging anyone who looked like they wouldn’t mind. Roger wasn’t like that. Not that he was one of those blokes who couldn’t touch another man because of the fragile veneer of masculinity, but every touch or hug was an _I love you_ when it came from him. And he knew that he could never hope to hide how very loud and very true that was when it came to John.

 

 Roger gave Freddie a tight smile, lightening it slightly when his gaze slipped to John, and made his way over to check his drum kit.

 

 

* ***** *

 

 Roger let his heels bump against the wall in a careless beat as he sipped his Japanese beer, inhaling a cigarette fast enough that it would make him sick if he kept it up.

 

 The gig had been fantastic. Every gig in Japan was off the scale, the energy from the crowds making all the hair on Roger’s arms stand on end. He had felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin there was so much adrenaline in his veins, and not even John’s calming touch had been enough to ground him.

 

 So he had thrown himself into the after-party. He had let himself be pulled into a Japanese drinking game that involved a lot of Sake, helped Ratty get laid, had almost tripped over a table while laughing at Brian being aggressively flirted with.

 

 He had ended up out here, perched on the sill of a second story window overlooking a side street, when all the itchy, rapid numbness of adrenaline had finally worn off enough for him to be able to stand silence.

 

The smouldering end of his cigarette arched through the darkness when he flicked it away, Roger waiting a moment before fishing out another one.

 

 Roger wasn’t being morose, in fact he always made a point never to be. He just needed a moment to accept his feelings about things that couldn't be helped.

 

 The clunk of heels on wooden floors caught his attention, and he sagged slightly when he realised those weren’t John’s rangy footsteps.

 

 His first reaction when he glanced over his shoulder was to grimace. Freddie was not the type of friend to forget your emotions, so Roger had tried to avoid both him and the conversation he knew Freddie would want to have. But now that he was here, standing over Roger with kindness and warmth radiating from every inch of him, Roger felt like he wanted to spill his soul to him.

 

“Hello darling, destroying that lovely voice some more?”

 

“You know me,” he winked, popping the cigarette into his mouth but not reaching for his lighter. “Enjoying the party?”

 

“It’s so splendid that someone will have to drag Deaky off that dance floor,” Freddie declared, and Roger smiled at the memory of that club in Newcastle where he had first danced with John. “How are you, dear?”

 

“Tired,” Roger admitted, sagging slightly when Freddie perched on the inside part of the windowsill and leant his arm on Roger's shoulder.

 

“If my being affectionate with John earlier upset you in any way…?”

 

“I was upset, but only because I can’t do that, not because you did. I don’t...I hope I’m not that possessive.”

 

“You’re not dear. Don’t worry.”

 

 Roger shot him a tight smile that he knew was almost a wince. “Thanks. It’s not been great having to be so careful.” Roger flicked the wheel on his lighter. “Kids go out and buy our _posters_ Fred. How weird is that? Our faces on some teen bedroom wall...what if they’re fucking to our music?”

 

“What other reason could we have possibly written it all for,” Freddie purred with a toss of his hair, sniggering when Roger rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah. Well, we’re well known and people love sticking their noses into well known people’s business. John and me aren’t their business, I don’t want us to be turned into shit jokes and...I know we are already, but that’s the music. Not…” Roger sighed and lit his cigarette. “Can you imagine it? Everyone implying we broke the law just because John was nineteen when we first met.”

 

“I’m sure it won’t…”

 

“We could be accused of historic buggery and neither of us have ever been buggered!” Roger laughed, then remembered himself. “Sorry. That was a bit too much information.”

 

 Freddie just laughed. “Oh no, dear. Deaky still talks to me about a lot of things.”

 

“Oh god.”

 

“Nothing graphic dear. Nothing I don’t already know from when I lived with you,” Freddie smoothed his hands over Roger’s shoulders, the action wonderfully soothing. “I can see why you’re frustrated, dear. I can’t imagine not being able to simply hold Mary’s hand in the street.”

 

“Thank you. John sees it too. He deals with all this better than I do, but then he’s had to put up with it for longer,” he waved his cigarette at Freddie. “And that pisses me off too.”

 

 They fell silent for a moment, Freddie’s fingers absentmindedly stroking through the ends of Roger’s hair. “The world cannot change overnight, and we’re not here to do it. Not in such a way, anyway. It is unpleasant, but it is what it is,” Freddie paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I imagine it’s quite a difficult thing, more often than not, to realise than you find men attractive in the same way most others find women. You breezed in to London ready to accept yourself and to be accepted, and have found love! How rare and wonderful that is Roger, to find _love_ even under normal circumstances.”

 

“I know. I _know_ I’m a lucky bastard. I know I’m...nahh, it’s just a shitty reality check. Can’t complain really. I’ve got it good”

 

“It’s still unpleasant. ”

 

“Eh well. I suppose the silver lining is that we’re working all this out in a place with respectful journalists, not like at home.”

 

“I just got shivers!” Freddie shook himself dramatically, and then wrapped his arm around Roger. “You’ll be fine, dear. Brian and myself are here for you both.”

 

“Thank you,” Roger said softly, reaching up to pat Freddie’s hand.

 

“It is no problem at all,” he gave Roger a squeeze before letting him go and standing. “Are you coming back to the party or not?”

 

 Roger considered his shoes for a moment, then stubbed his cigarette out on the wall. “Yeah.”

 

 He clambered back in with very little grace. Freddie helped to haul him to his feet and then physically dragged Roger into the hotel disco.

 

 Roger was just re-adjusting to the stifling heat and thumping noise when a familiar body crashed into him.

 

“Where have you _been_?” John yelled over the music, unconsciously moving to the beat as he looked at Roger with overly bright eyes.

 

“Was having an introspective moment,” Roger shouted into his ear.

 

“Freddie help you sort it?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Wonderful,” John beamed at him, tugging his sleeve. “Come dance!”

 

 Roger patted John on the waist, shaking his head as a cheer went up on the other side of the room. “Not feeling it tonight.”

 

“Okay.” Roger expected John, who was visibly tipsy, to turn around and disappear back onto the dance floor. John never hung around when there was dancing to do, instead appearing every so often to sip from Roger’s drink or complain that his feet hurt until Roger managed to drag him home.

 

“We can go?”

 

“We - no, dance if you want.”

 

“I can dance any time. Let’s go.”

 

“You can be with me anytime.”

 

“No! Really? Well,” John exaggerated looking at his watch. “Guess this is anytime. Come on, we'll start the _after_ after party!”

 

“Sounds exclusive,” Roger laughed as John started to lead him around the dance floor by his sleeve.

 

“Oh yeah. Very. All booze flown in straight from the minibar.”

 

“Perfect,” Roger laughed, allowing himself to be bumped into Johns back. “You're perfect!”

 

 

* ***** * 

 

 “That’s it. That’s it John. Come on,” Roger breathed as John twisted his fist that was moving slowly over Roger's cock.

 

 Roger breathed hard through his nose, pushing his hands up John’s bare thighs to cup his hips. He tilted his head, brushing his nose against John’s cheek until he turned his head to lick into Roger’s mouth. They kissed noisily, the fruity tang of the wine John had been drinking cutting through the taste of cigarettes still on Roger’s tongue.

 

 He sighed into John’s mouth when he tightened his hand on Roger’s cock, pressing harder into the kiss when John slid his fingers into Roger’s hair. Roger squeezed John’s hips hard enough to make him moan, then slipped a hand down to rub his palm against John’s dick.

 

 They had not hurried back from the party, nor had they stumbled through the door barely able to keep their hands off one another. They had taken a nice stroll through the nice hotel while enjoying one another's company, something they continued to do once they were in their room, sitting next to one another on the plush sofa sipping wine while they chatted about Japan.

 

 Things escalated from there, as you have probably gathered and now John was straddling Roger's lap, neither of them with any trousers or underwear on. John’s unbuttoned shirt was slowly slipping down over his shoulders, a sight so lovely Roger couldn’t help kissing over the pale curve of his collarbone.

 

 Roger pressed his hand to John’s lower back and pulled him close enough for them to tangle their hands around both of their cocks, falling into a rhythm with their usual ease.

 

 It was a little dry, but it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all, especially when John started to rock into the tangle of their fingers, the smooth skin of his cock sliding against Rogers. He moaned against John’s neck, their hands speeding up as Roger sucked a mark onto John's collarbone.

 

“OH shit,” John gasped, thighs flexing against Roger’s legs as he dug his knees into the sofa cushions. “Tighter.”

 

 Roger smiled into John’s skin, nipping at the hickey that was blossoming nicely on his collarbone before tipping his head back. He watched John’s face as he tightened his grip on their cocks, biting his lip to hold in a groan when John gasped, eyes fluttering shut.

 

 Roger kissed over John's Adam's apple as he pressed his palm into his heaving stomach, moaning when John tugged his head back and licked into his mouth.

 

 Roger came first, shuddering and groaning, all over his hand and John. He let his cock slip from his grasp once it started to soften, batting John’s hand away so he could take over jacking him off hard and fast until he was cumming too.

 

 John sagged, breathing hard, and then pitched forward to lean his forehead against Roger’s shoulder. They sat like that for a moment, sweat and cum cooling on their skin, until John kissed Roger’s neck and then pushed himself upright. “Well,” he huffed, blowing some hair off his face, and then cupped Roger’s cheek as he kissed him sweetly.

 

 Roger trailed his fingertips over John’s shoulders, following the path his shirt had taken when it slipped down his arms to bunch at his wrists. He helped him to undo the tiny buttons on his cuffs, catching up each hand that was freed from the tangle of fabric so he could kiss John’s fingers.

 

After cleaning them both up John dumped his shirt on the floor, giving Roger another soft kiss before slipping off his lap. Roger pushed his hand through his hair as he sagged into the cushions, rubbing at the goosebumps that flared all over his thighs from the lack of John’s weight and warmth resting on them. He watched John sip the last of his wine, cheeks beautifully pink and the ends of his hair curling against his skin, and reached out to hold John’s hand that was resting on the cushion between them.

 

“Hey Deaks?”

 

 John turned so he was facing Roger, curling his legs up on the sofa as he tangled their fingers together. “Yes, Rogah.”

 

“I love you,” Roger grinned, rubbing his thumb over the ring he had given to John.

 

 John leant his flushed cheek against his wine glass, a sparkle in his eyes. “I love you too.”

 

“I adore you.”

 

“I adore _you_.”

 

 Roger shifted to throw his leg over John’s. “You’re so lovely.”

 

 John reached out to brush his fingers over Roger’s cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

 

 Roger picked up John’s hand and kissed his palm, the joint of his thumb, and the inside of his wrist. He could have gone on to kiss every inch of John, but instead he pressed close to him, gripping his hand in both of his as he lay his head on John’s chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

 

 

* ***** *

####    - _Fuji_

 Every city they went to in Japan had something breathtaking in it. Be it peaceful, ancient temples with gardens full of elegant tree’s and perfectly plush carpets of moss (that Roger really wanted to sink his feet in to but managed to restrain himself), or the brand new shopping malls and hotels that were always immaculate and state of the art. The food was always so different and exciting, and the landscape veered wildly between quaint and breathtaking.

 

 Roger enjoyed a good view as much as any man, but it was something else to be faced with Mt.Fuji.

 

“Can't pay fer a view like that,” John muttered, and Roger smiled at the slip of his accent.

 

“You could say that.”

 

 Tomoko had told them when they boarded the train to Shizuoka that the city was right next to Fuji. They had only seen it in fuzzy photos in books or on crockery designed to look Japanese, and none of those had done any justice to the real thing.

 

 Brian and Freddie had elected to go up the mountain, which Roger thought was missing a trick. All they would get to see was the dark beach backing onto the pine forest that Roger and John (and their minders) were strolling along, where as they got to look up at the mountain that was sat above the clouds as if it was floating on an ocean.

 

 Roger just stood and looked while John took some photos, committing to memory the salt on his lips and the sound of the ocean and the warm sun on his face.

 

 It felt good to be awed by nature, Roger thought, it put you right back in your place as a lowly little human. Worries meant little when you were looking up at something like that.

 

 He looked over at John who didn’t look quite as awed as Roger felt, but he wasn't always the most expressive person.

 

 John caught him looking and turned the camera on him, the shutter clicking twice before Roger could even react. “Hey! Stop doing that!”

 

“No,” John laughed, snapping another one before angling himself to get Fuji in the back of the shot.

 

 Roger posed for the photo, sighing when John didn’t take it. “Are you fucking with me, Deacon?”

 

“No. You look better when you don’t pose.”

 

“How can I not pose for a photo?” Roger demanded. “I always look weird when I don't!”

 

“Yes, but that's my Roger, and I prefer him.”

 

 Just being referred to as _my Roger_ had him feeling all puffed up like a content cat or a particularly self-satisfied Robin. He smiled properly even though it wrinkled his nose, letting his little, gyoza filled tummy stick out as he threw up a peace sign.

 

“There,” John said after he'd taken some photos, moving closer to Roger. “Beautiful.”

 

There was no way Roger wasn’t supposed to blush at that, John could be a smooth bastard when he felt like it, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

 

 Their minder, who had gathered some of what they were talking about, mimed offering to take a photo of them in front of Fuji. John slung his arm around Roger’s shoulders and he pressed his palm to John’s lower back, gazing up at him a moment before remembering to smile for the camera.

 

 They hung around for a bit to allow everyone to soak up the view, Roger tipping his head back into the sun as the way it warmed his wind chilled skin reminded him so much of his childhood spent on the coast. He cracked an eye open when he heard John laugh, watching as him and Tomoko leant over the railing to look at something on the beach.

 

 Her shoulder bumped against his and they moved apart slightly, Tomoko covering her face as she blushed while John awkwardly pretended not to notice. Roger smiled to himself, charmed as always by how much girls liked John. He understood the appeal after all, John was sweet and nonthreatening and very, very pretty.

 

 He sidled up to John’s other side, giving Tomoko a friendly nod before bumping hip against John’s. “Wanna keep walking? It’s getting a bit chilly.”

 

 John, ever the gentleman, let Tomoko go first, and they were both ready with a slightly awkward bow when she bowed to them.

 

 Roger didn't want to embarrass her, Tomoko had been nothing but good natured and patient with them all trip, so he waited until she was in conversation with their minder before whispering to John. “Someone’s got a fan.”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

“It’s cute!”

 

 John shrugged, dipping his head. “I don’t want her to feel weird. This is her job.”

 

“Exactly! Imagine how happy I’d be just _working_ for Jane Fonda!”

 

 John rolled his eyes, their hands knocking together so their fingers brushed. They walked a few paces before Roger knocked their hands together just hard enough to get John to look at him.

 

“I’ve made a decision,” Roger said.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“I am going to do my best not to let all this get to me. Do you know why?'

 

 John sighed deeply and glanced around at the trees and the ocean and the sky. "Because...it's a small price to pay for getting all of this," he said with an expansive gesture at himself, "naked in bed with you." He looked at Roger, managed about a second of earnestness, then giggled. "Sorry. That was flippant. Umm...because," John angled his upper body towards Roger. "I love you, and you love me. And we have to hope that will be enough whenever things get really shit.”

 

 Roger nodded slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets and flicked his thumb over the wheel on his lighter. “True true,” Roger agreed, because that was very true. “But…” he knocked his shoulder against John’s, “The you naked thing was more what I was aiming for.”

 

 John laughed, glanced at Roger and laughed even louder. “Bloody hell, you really mean that, don’t you?”

 

“It’s true!” Roger laughed, staggering slightly when they bumped into one another. “You’re worth not holding your hand for!”

 

“You’re such a tosser.”

 

“It’s okay John, I know you mean ‘incredibly romantic’.”

 

“I do not!”

 

“No it’s okay. I understand” Roger tossed his hair. “My charm is beyond words.”

 

 

* ***** *

####   -  _London_

 The sound of John yawning had Roger jerking out of his doze. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, glancing around like he hadn’t just been about to fall asleep standing up.

 

They were gathered at the edge of the badly lit taxi rank outside Heathrow airport, the night thick and practically silent. There had been no screaming reception for them on their triumphant arrival home, no police escort nor a fleet of cars ready to take them away. Just a bored Passport Control officer who didn’t look very pleased to be either on the night shift or to be in the presence of four long haired young men with too much luggage.

 

 The night air was sticky, and smelled of exhaust fumes and rubbish that was yet to be collected. It wasn’t unduly pleasant, or glamorous, Roger thought as he flicked his cigarette butt into a drain, but it was home.

 

 Brian was perched on the pile of their suitcases, and a half asleep Freddie was leaning on John who was rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Roger drummed his toes in his shoes to try and stay awake, and was about to shove his hands in his pockets when John linked his little finger around Roger’s.

 

 Roger looked down at their joined fingers, then around at the few other people waiting for taxis who were wholly unbothered and uninterested in them, then back to John. He tangled more of their fingers together and squeezed until John glanced over at Roger, then stepped in close to press their shoulders together.

 

“It’s good to be a nobody again,” John whispered, a smile just pulling at the edge of his lips.

 

“Yes,” Roger agreed, rocking up onto his toes a moment. “It is.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8b/d7/60/8bd760785c586013138e3ad618c51938.jpg) is the kimono shoot.
> 
> and we've all seen the [photos](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/84/8c/c8/848cc8c3035cc9faa994ca9f38520186.jpg) or Freddie and John at Nagoya [castle](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/21/00/6f/21006f47dc55512783b74e164e51a9fc.jpg)
> 
> Also John being mobbed by Japanese[school kids ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/69053732b3e6adf71d6fb1139445c365/tumblr_pnwew7y3mz1umpa0u_400.jpg) is [pure as hell](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/af/6e/80/af6e80dd37840476ed36b19041859763.jpg)
> 
> also, I can't remember where I read it but I know that on this Japan tour fans were breaking into their rooms and running wild in the hotel corridors. They were so unprepared for the reception they got which is...so sweet.


End file.
